


Take me home with you tonight

by starlightwalking



Series: in the midst of the innumerable stars [4]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Back to Middle-Earth Month, Captivity, Eldritch Space Spiders, Giant Spiders, M/M, Pre-Slash, Timeline What Timeline, oh my god they were blademates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 17:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30025011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: Maeglin is captured by the Enemy and shipped off to Angband - only to be rescued by the unlikeliest of Atani, wielding the twin of his father's lightsaber.
Relationships: Maeglin | Lómion/Túrin Turambar
Series: in the midst of the innumerable stars [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1398625
Comments: 7
Kudos: 15
Collections: Back to Middle-earth Month (B2MEM) 2021, Back to Middle-earth Month 2020: Endings and Beginnings





	Take me home with you tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aikanaro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aikanaro/gifts).



> Here is another old B2MeM prompt I’ve had planned for a year and am finally revisiting!  
> This is technically for 3/28/20. The official prompt was: “And curb your pride and your greed, or you will fall at the end of whatever path you take, though your hands be full of gold.” (Unfinished Tales, Part Three, III, The Quest of Erebor) I also used the prompts “CHARACTER was exploring the backs of the spaceport docks when she ran smack into the fight.” [First Line] and Nan Dungortheb [Silm Locations]. Also, the 2021 prompt for 3/10/21 was “Of the Darkening of Valinor,” which while this fic isn’t /about/ that, it does reference it, so I’m counting it.  
> I was also inspired by May @aikanaro's suggestion to write about Maeglin in this verse, though since that was given an entire year ago I don’t expect they’ll remember it, lol. But hey, technically this is for you, May!
> 
> This is set in my weird Star Wars-ish AU. Túrin featured prominently in the Beleg fic I wrote in this verse, but this is the first time I’ve taken a stab at Maeglin. This whole AU is extremely messy, so don’t think too hard about anything, the worldbuilding is very slapdash, but I have fun here. You don’t have to have read the other fics in the series, but if you want a bit (though not a lot) of context on where Túrin’s coming from, that might help. The only worldbuilding detail that might be useful here beyond what’s in the fic itself is that elves (Quendi) glow when they’re under stress...especially when they’re horny.  
> Timeline what timeline? This is set post-Nargothrond for Túrin, but pre-Brethil, which I know doesn’t match up with what’s going on with Maeglin but again, this verse is very loose on its relationship to canon, lol.  
> I didn’t intend for this to turn into Túrin/Maeglin, but I didn’t really know what I was intending when I started writing, and hey this ship needs more content anyway! So here you go, have a quick and messy oneshot in this weird-ass space AU I’ve cooked up for this event across these past three years.
> 
> Title from the same song I’ve pulled most of this verse’s titles, “Time Can Never Kill the True Heart” by Stars.

Maeglin was exploring the backs of the spaceport docks when he ran smack into the fight. He really didn’t mean to get caught up in it—he didn’t mean to get caught up in _any_ of this—but as soon as the Orctroopers caught sight of _him_ they stopped beating up each other and swarmed him.

Before he knew it he was shoved in a tiny cell on their ship, hurtling away from the spaceport and any chance of freedom. Damn it, that’s _all_ he’d wanted, a moment of freedom for himself, away from the oppressive opulence of Gondolin—but no, as soon as he took a quick journey to look for asteroid ore he got himself caught by the Empire. Of fucking course.

“Where are you taking me?” he tried to snap, but his voice came out more as a whine. For all he was a prince, he could never get himself to _sound_ imperious, not the way Turgon and Idril or any of the other Lords could.

The Orctroopers laughed through their helmets. “To Angband,” one of them sneered, and Maeglin’s blood ran cold. He looked down at his hands, watching his skin turn a mottled gray, and hated himself for being unable to control the fluctuations of his body’s hue. Every other Quendë could do it, but _no_ , not him, especially not when he started to fucking glow bright red around Idril letting _everyone_ know just how he felt about her. It was why he stuck to the shadows and wore several layers, so he’d be harder to spot.

Angband. Of course. If they knew who he was—but how could they?

 _At least they won’t torture me for Gondolin’s location,_ he thought grimly. _Just for fun. Turn me into one of them..._

Unless he escaped somehow. But how? He was no Jedi, able to manipulate people’s minds, no matter what the Gondolindrim would whisper about him, no matter the weapon he’d stolen from his father. They’d taken his blaster and Eöl’s red lightsaber, and there was no way he’d manage to break out of this cell with his bare hands. He was muscled from smithing, but not _that_ muscled.

Despair overwhelming him, Maeglin curled up into a ball. He didn’t cry himself to sleep, but it was a close call; he’d never be free now, not even if he somehow managed to get back to Gondolin, because they’d never let him sneak away again.

* * *

Maeglin woke to the sounds of his captors screaming. The ship shook and spun; Maeglin pressed himself against the wall and bit back a scream. What was happening? Was the ship malfunctioning? Were they being— _attacked_?

He couldn’t quite look out the front window, but as he tumbled around in the tiny cell he did manage to catch a brief glimpse. What he saw made his blood run cold: it was some monstrous star-beast, many-legged and blacker than the Void, and it was clinging to the ship, battering away at it.

The fucking idiots, Maeglin thought hysterically. They’d sailed right into the Dungortheb belt. Not even the Empire had managed to conquer this strip of asteroids, inhabited by the fierce and hideous Ungolli monsters. Even Darth Morgoth was said to be afraid of the Ungolli; Maeglin’s mother had whispered stories to him of how he’d captured one and used it to suck the light out of the Quendi-made stars on her home planet of Aman, only for the beast to turn on him and nearly kill him.

Maeglin wished it had. He’d rather the Ungolli ruled the galaxy than Morgoth. But it didn’t matter, because he was dead regardless.

The Orctroopers tried to man the ships guns, but it was mostly a transport vessel, not a fighter ship, and the thing had already latched onto the ship. They only succeeded in shooting themselves.

 _I’m sorry, Ammë,_ Maeglin wept silently. _I’m sorry you died for me, only to have your stupid son get himself killed like this..._

And then, just as he was sure the Ungol was about to shove one of its massive legs through the ceiling and doom them all to death in the vacuum of space—

Something—or some _one_ —drew Eöl’s lightsaber and cut the bars of Maeglin’s cell.

Maeglin stared dumbfounded at the Orctrooper towering over him, and realized suddenly that no, it _wasn’t_ Eöl’s lightsaber. Or, it _was_ , but it wasn’t Anguirel, the one he’d stolen from his father: it was _Anglachel_ , his own saber’s twin, the one Eöl had paid as tribute to Elu Thingol of Doriath so he would be undisturbed on his forest moon of Elmoth. How had this Orctrooper gotten ahold of it?

“Get out, quick,” the Orctrooper snapped, and its voice was low and rough, but not in the callous, crackling way the others had been. “Get a suit on—right over there—we’re gonna have to take the escape pod.”

“Wh—” Maeglin began, but then the Orctrooper yanked off his helmet, and he realized—this wasn’t an Orctrooper. He was...an _Atan_. Like that motherfucker Tuor, but somehow even more haggard than he’d been when he and Voronwë crash-landed on Gondolin’s surface...and yet somehow much handsomer, too.

“That’s my...” he tried again, but the Atan only shoved him toward the spacesuits. Maeglin hurriedly stepped into it, grateful it was one of the more high-tech ones that molded quickly to his skinny body. The Atan did the same, and Maeglin realized that though the crunching and pounding of the Ungol hadn’t stopped, there was no more commotion from the squad of Orctroopers.

“Did you—?” he attempted, and this time the Atan sighed, glaring at him.

“Yes, I killed them,” he snapped. “I couldn’t get your blaster but—here’s your saber. It’s—” He shook his head. “Whatever, we’ll talk later. Get into the pod before that _thing_ makes it so we can’t.”

“We’ll be more vulnerable out there,” Maeglin protested, but it wasn’t as if staying _here_ was a good idea, so he let the Atan shove him into the pod. It was a tight fit with the two of them, but no more uncomfortable than the cell he’d been in, and before he knew it the Atan had pressed the eject button and they were shooting out into space.

“What are we going to do _now_?” Maeglin asked, his voice cracking, trying not to think about just how _physically close_ he was to the Atan. “We’re in the middle of the Dungortheb belt—”

“Almost at its edge, actually,” the Atan said shortly. “That monster messed up my plans, but I was waiting ’til we had a good chance of escape before making my move, anyway.”

“Who _are_ you?” Maeglin demanded. “And—why do you have that saber?”

The Atan lifted up his sheathed blade, nodding to Maeglin’s. “I could ask you the same.”

“My father made it,” Maeglin said, not bothering to hide his bitterness. “He made both of them. But that one he sold to—”

“—Elu Thingol,” the Atan finished. “Hm. You’re the Sith smith’s kid?”

“My father wasn’t a Sith,” Maeglin muttered. “Not even _they_ would take him.”

“I got this from my—friend,” the Atan said quietly. “He...well, he died, and I...inherited it, I suppose.”

“And your friend stole it from Thingol?”

“He was one of Thingol’s captains,” the Atan said. “He didn’t need to steal it.”

Maeglin scowled, shifting slightly in the cramped space. “Who _are_ you, anyway? You know who I am.”

“Sort of,” the Atan countered. “You’re...what’s his name’s son. Eel?”

“Eöl,” Maeglin spat. “Though believe me, I don’t like him any more than Thingol did.”

“Yeah, you disappeared to Gondolin,” the Atan said slowly. “Is your dad there?”

“He’s dead,” Maeglin said shortly.

“Mm. My dad’s either dead or good as it.” The Atan shrugged. “You can call me...Turambar. I’ve been through hell and...well, I’m on my way to whatever new hell awaits me. Sorry I’ve dragged you along for the ride.”

 _Turambar?_ Maeglin almost scoffed at the dramatics of the name, but the Atan _had_ saved him.

“Well, I’d be dead if it weren’t for you, so thanks,” Maeglin said gruffly. “You can call me—” He paused. He wasn’t sure if he trusted Turambar with his identity as a prince of Gondolin, even if he already knew where Maeglin was from, and he was pretty sure “Turambar” was a fake name, so why not give him a fake name in return? But he couldn’t think of anything, so instead the only other name he’d been known by surfaced, and before he could think twice he found himself blurting out, “Lómion. You can call me Lómion.”

“Well met, Lómion,” Turambar said grimly, something equal parts noble and roguish gleaming from his pale eyes. “Though I’m guessing you’ll regret meeting me in the long run. Most people do.”

Maeglin laughed hollowly, trying to ignore how his skin sparked lightly with red. _Now_ was _really_ not the time to realize just how attractive his new companion was. “Yeah, well, likewise.”

“We’re approaching the Echoriath region,” Turambar said, peering out the small porthole and pressing his hand against the nav pad on the side of the pod. “I think I can guide us to one of those dwarf planets?”

“Echoriath?” Maeglin echoed. “Oh, no, don’t worry. I know a place.”

“What?”

Maeglin snorted. “I’m from Gondolin, remember?”

“But no one knows how to—” Turambar broke off. “Well, I guess you would, but...I doubt they’d welcome an Atan like me.”

“You’d be surprised,” Maeglin grumbled, thinking of Tuor, though the two Atani were not much alike. “Besides, they can’t hate you more than they dislike me. And it’s the safest place in the galaxy.”

“Outside of Doriath,” Turambar murmured, and even though he was wrong, Maeglin didn’t correct him. Those were pretty much the only two safe places left, since Nargothrond fell.

“Move over,” Maeglin said, and replaced Turambar’s palm on the nav pad. Turambar scooted behind him, pressing against his back for a moment that made Maeglin’s skin gleam red, and he hoped dearly that Turambar’s Quendi friend hadn’t told him what their people’s skin glowing meant. It had just been so _long_ since anyone had touched him gently...

But the pod would run out of fuel soon, he knew, and Gondolin was nearer than he’d thought. There would be time to further repress his feelings later; for now, he steered them toward the hidden planet, hoping that their welcome there would be less disastrous than the first time he’d arrived at the shining white city he unfortunately called his home.

**Author's Note:**

> Ungolli = plural form of ungol (spider). I used the Quenya plural here even though ungol is a Sindarin word because I liked the look of Ungolli more than Ungyl. This verse is a haphazard mess in more than just linguistics so I’m not really too bothered by the inconsistency, lol.
> 
> I don’t have any more plans to write for this verse, so I’m marking it as complete for now, but who knows? If I get inspired maybe I’ll throw something else out there, so subscribe if you’re interested and perhaps you’ll get a notification in a year or so! Or not. No promises.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please comment if you enjoyed!  
> You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/).


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